Lotus on a Looking Glass
by Siginaguran
Summary: Updated: Chapter 5 added. Sometimes fate just has this way of turning everything around full circle, right when you thought you were on the edge of a cliff, looking at what seemed to be the end. Aoshi Shinomori x Misanagi Moriya.
1. Somewhere in Kyoto

**1. A Lotus floating on a Looking Glass**

_- Shirou Tora Byakko_

_Hello, sir. _

_Good Evening._

_Welcome to the Peach Heaven!_

The last fragments of the afternoon sunlight slowly disappeared in streaks, tainting the crimson sky with uneven highlights of yellow and orange. Somewhere in the streets of Kyoto, the patrons of the geisha house began to make their way towards the venue, eager to see the show for the night. 

A stunning new show! A dazzling new performer! 

All the fliers said the same thing each week, and each week, so he had learned, the patrons had never been let down. 

The geisha house was more popular than the brothels nowadays. But that was only because some of the dancers doubled in the same line of profession as their female counterparts of less reputable standing. Never would the offers be said out loud though. Instead, they would be whispered to the "mothers" of the houses behind the paper fans. 

That was the way that business was.

That was the way that life was. 

From the back of the wide room, he watched as the patrons walked in, mostly men, mostly old men, mostly dirty old men. A good number of them were "Nihon jin". People of his own blood… Though many of them, as he came to assess later on, were less than worthy of their heritage. The rest were Gaijin dogs. Ruthless Americans who thought that they knew how to run a country…__

He snorted at the thought, a hint of emotion flashing through his dark cobalt eyes in the process.

_Would you like anything, Sir?_

The waitress that had asked him was bubbly in demeanor, brown-haired girl that was hardly passed fourteen. _Gyokuro__. He said, simply, and with a cheerful smile, she had gone off, leaving him to himself. _

Leaning back, he sighed, the sheath of his double kudachi nudging against his back. He could feel the hilt of his blade through the fabric of his trench coat. At a certain angle it felt like a stab wound; a reminder of the life that he had to lead. 

Pushing the thought out of his mind, he looked towards the center of the room where the crowd's attention had grown to focus on.

Five girls of ascending height, each in carnation pink kimonos, stood at the center with dazzling feathered fans in their hands vertically covered a standing figure. Unconsciously shifting in his seat, he allowed himself to get a better view; the boisterous fat man in front of him reclining and laughing as he groped the voluptuous courtesan pouring sake into his cup.

  
_Rice wine was… Intoxicating. _Something he couldn't allow himself a part off. He would not be allowed to forget. 

Speaking of which, the waitress had returned, placing a small white pot adorned with crimson rose patterns. She had given him a single, warmed cup to match it, smiling as he poured in the drink. The smile seemed to be offering something more. Accompaniment? A bed to lie in? Someone to lie with? He shook his head and she nodded, a somewhat dejected look masking her face for a split second. Within the next moment she had flitted to the doorway, welcoming a foreigner and his Japanese guide. 

Returning his gaze to the presentation, he looked just in time to see the feathered fans part, revealing a young woman of moderate height. She seemed to be this week's modest star, a pale-skinned woman with long black hair and brown eyes that shone bronze in the light of the room. Her lips were frozen in a sigh, her expression stoic and melancholy. A twinge of familiarity washed over him, but he thought better of acknowledging it. Instead, he watched her move, her slender, almost fragile form seeming like porcelain underneath an off-shoulder black kimono with silver lotus blossoms stretching all the way down to where the garments ended above her knees.

He had seen dancers like her more than a dozen times before, all of them resigned to the same fate. As he watched, he caught her glance his way, seeing her nod as if she had seen all men think the same a thousand times before.

_A lotus on a looking glass. _He had thought, silently watching as she danced to the tune of a lonesome shamisen. She was a flower ready to wilt, the lotus blossom being the only one that allows memory to fade, and he was the looking glass, a mere mirror of what the truth was. 

But he did not want her or her body.  All he felt was an off-handed pity at what she had come to be. What they both had to be, he had even supposed.

Beside him, he heard the obese patron began to laugh again, this time whistling for the "mother" of the house. He listened as he requested, no, demanded that the girl be brought to him after her routine. The jezebel beside him gave a mock pout, inwardly contradicting herself for being both relieved and wary at the same time. She was relieved in the sense that she would no longer have to satisfy the man with his meaty hands and his flabby arms. At the same time, she was nervous of how much she could get before he shooed her away like a boy does to an old hound when he has to make room for the next little puppy. 

Getting up,  he dropped a few gold coins into the dish, the nearest waitress, rushing forward and picking them up to slip into the satchel between her bosom. 

_Thank you for coming._

_Have a nice night, Sir!_

_Are you sure you wouldn't wish to stay for the evening? We have a few rooms free._

He walked out into the rain soaked streets of Kyoto, the heavy downpour of late July obstructing the view of a moonlit night and the scent of cherry blossoms. 

If he could've screamed into the dark, he would have. But he knew better than that. Instead he walked down the narrow street and towards the rundown inn found in the outskirts of town, allowing the rain to cry for the both of them.

Because for Aoshi Shinomori… The time for tears had passed long ago. 

---

**Author's notes: **To the people, who have reviewed, thank you for your meticulous reading and corrections. Mild changes have been made to keep accurate with canon.  This piece was first meant to be a short story however, with your support I've begun to ponder a sequel. Again, thank you very much. ^_^ 

**Information: **GYOKURO is the best Japanese Tea. It is a precious tea and it is served as a treat to visitors. GYOKURO means "the dew of jewels".  It has a stronger flavor and aroma with less bitterness than SENCHA. This is because when the buds are about to come out, the teas bushes are shaded

**Disclaimer:**_ Rurouni Kenshin is the work of Nobuhiro Watsuki. This text and its sequels are a work of fiction and do not intend to infringe on Watsuki-san's copyrights. _


	2. Fragments of Reality

** 2. Fragments of Reality**

_- Shirou Tora Byakko _

It wasn't the rising of the blood-rimmed moon into the death-filled black sky or the twinkling of a thousand stars that mimicked sneering gazes that brought her out of her beaten stupor. Instead it had been the suffocating sound of silence that had clamped around her body like a vice, just as the heavy woven ropes had bound her limbs together earlier.

She felt dirty and defiled, as if she had been trashed around by a bullwhip a few times over; each muscle feeling raw, each bone ready to come out of its socket. Her joints carried a numbing type of pain, the type that sent sparks throughout her body with each move that she had forced herself to make. 

The blood that gashed out of an open wound felt warm to her touch, contrasting the drying dampness that she felt through her clothes. How much had she lost? Not enough, from what she could gather. After all, she was still breathing.

The sounds of muffled marching and hoarse shouts had already died down hours before, along with the coming of a sudden downpour of rain.  The men that had followed her had finally left, bringing with them their rough voices, crude laughter, weaponry and torches. The last two made her grimace, giving her a sudden burst of determination to stand up.

Those Meiji lackeys had come to their village like kings, parading like they owned all of Japan and more. They had brought with them a heavy metal contraption that they had called a gattling gun, an implement of death, as she had later learned, when no man, woman or child had survived the rain of sharp metal that came in torrents.

Only she was left. Bound and gagged and made to watch as the bodies of her people dropped like flies over a meat vendor's stall. 

The thought alone made her nauseated, the bile forcing its way up her throat. She gulped it down and gagged, tasting acid as well as something coppery in her mouth. Blood.

With whatever final ounce of strength she had left, she used it to force herself to get up, her knees buckled and wavered but she would not grant them the favor of letting her fall once more. She would not be weak. 

Stumbling forward, she took each graceless, painful step with as much dignity as she could muster. All she wished to follow now was the sound of running water. _Such vanity._ Her mind had laughed. For indeed, only a woman would first think of cleaning herself before looking for help. She tried to laugh in reality as well, but her voice sounded old and parched. She felt frozen inside.

Around her, the trees seemed to grow closer, obscuring the crimson-lined moon from view. She didn't remember how long she had swerved and tripped and staggered, only that the next time she allowed herself to fall, it had been into water. Cold, clear, cleansing water. One moment she had been floating in a comforting ethereal bliss, the next she thing she knew she was drowning.

The water had clogged her mouth and her nostrils; it had flooded into her ears, closing off the rest of the world within a crystal dome that she could not break past. She had struggled way past the point that it had seemed futile to fight until finally she was falling. And falling. And falling. Falling into the black void of dark memories and shaded thoughts until.

The arms that cradled her limp form were strong and reassuring. Somewhere, her subconscious noticed those hands rub against skin and fabric, as warm lips pressed against hers to make her breathe again.

When she finally coughed out water, her entire body seemed to convulse vehemently. Opening her eyes, she squinted as moonlight penetrated her vision. There was darkness. And moonlight. And something more.

A shade of blue that reminded her of frozen mountain peaks and warm sake, of winter and the voice of her father.

_"I. Know you." _She had whispered, breathlessly. 

She felt something warm run against her lips for a fragment of a moment, and as it disappeared, something dry cloaked her body. _"Rest." _Said a voice that echoed with familiarity. She tried vainly to search where and whom it had come from. Kaita perhaps? Maybe even? _"Schneider?" _But the voice had been stored somewhere deeper within the depths of her memories, something from long ago.

As her mind wandered, her eyelids began to grow heavy. Fighting for consciousness she began to call out the names of the Sanada Ningu. She tried to remind herself that she did not go this far just to faint. Death could be waiting for her if she allowed herself to enter the darkness.  Reaching out for the endless dark blue memory before her, she tried vainly to grasp the last fragment of reality she had before closing her eyes completely. 

---

**Info: **Misanagi Moriya first appeared in Rurouni Kenshin's episode 83 titled "_Yutaro__ Returns. The Ambitions of the Black Knights Hide in the Shadows". _Also known as the Black Knights/Herb of Immortality arc, this was actually just a filler story for the series. A quick search would leave you with this title ("Rurouni Kenshin - A Shinobi's Love [Episodes 87-90]") from Target.

In any case, a quick explanation: Misanagi Moriya is the local ninja Captain of the Sanada Ninja Clan. She teams up with a small German troop that has promised her power over Japan after they get the medicine that her clan has known of for centuries. Unfortunately, she gets double-crossed and the Kenshin-gumi foils the Black Knights' plans.

Her voice actress is Yokoyama Chisa, the same voice actress for Shinguji Sakura in Sakura Taisen, Kawaii Sasami/Sami for Pretty Sami and Lucrezia Noin of Gundam Wing. Hope this helps. 


	3. A Hearth and a Cup of Tea

**3. A Hearth and a Cup of Tea**

_- Shirou Tora Byakko_

An empty house.

A silent room.

The outside world seemed to fade behind the paper doors as they slid to a close.

He felt alone.

Here in the house in which he was supposed to call home. He had never felt welcome inside of its walls. There was a sort of strained indifference that remained hidden in the hushed whispers of its quarters. Not that he could complain. Never had he felt that he had the right to. After all, he was the one who had. What was the appropriate term for it? _Abandoned _her? Yes. That was it. 

Even if he could've explained that, he still couldn't explain to her what followed. The encounter with Okina. Shishio. then Himura. Then Shishio again. 

Explaining that would've been about as easy as taking away the world 'lecherous' from Okina's persona. 

Looking beyond him, he allowed himself to select a place for the figure that he had chosen to carry back with him. Sometimes fate had this uncanny way of turning your entire life around completely, letting you face the start while standing at the edge of what you thought was the end.

Finally he had set her in his room. Stripping her of her garments had been a bit of an ordeal, since the damp fabric had managed to mold itself onto her wounds. Each time he tried to take them off, they would re-open the healing injury, peeling the thin layer of skin and letting the blood flow once more. By the time that he had finished dressing her wounds, he had wrapped her in an old robe of his, not wanting to incite an argument should he have gotten something from any of the women's rooms. 

He wasn't even supposed to be there. He was supposed to be resting at the inn by now, making his way to Tokyo by train once the sun had risen. He was supposed to be speaking with the Mibu no Ookami.

Instead he had found himself back in this house, which was a little closer to a home... Deep inside he wondered inwardly if he had been lucky or unfortunate that Omasu, Ochika and Misao had decided to visit Himura and his friends for a while. Kuro and Shiro, last time he had heard, had gone to the market, thoughtfully pointing out that the goods would be less expensive in the evening since the vendors would need them to be sold before they rot.

Okina was. Elsewhere was the only correct term that he could find. Since the geisha houses acquired more of their 'stars', his 'long walks to clear the mind' had become much more frequent, lasting past the strokes of midnight. 

Aoshi nodded solemnly to himself. At least that was something he had been thankful for. Had the old man been there to welcome his unexpected arrival, he wouldn't have known what to explain concerning the girl.  

_"An old friend." _He would've said. Or maybe he would've worded nothing at all. When he thought about it once more, maybe he wouldn't have asked. Maybe he would've known.

Looking back, Aoshi watched as she stirred slightly, wincing as she leaned against a scrape. Watching her made him think of the dancer at the geisha house for a moment, before he sighed to himself. _"This is what we're forced to be." _He had whispered in a voice barely above audible.

Somewhere within him, he thought he remembered saying the same things once before. 

_Moriya._

He remembered a fraction of her name clearly enough. It held the kind of memory equivalent to the sunset. You could watch the sun slowly lower itself into the horizon but by the witching hour the thought of it in your mind could seem centuries old.

Now, as he began to brew a pot of _Hoji Cha _for himself, he finally allowed his mind to weigh his memories once more.

She had felt like a ghost from a past life; one that was more haunting than Beshimi or Hannya due to the fact that she was still alive. 

_"Moriya._"

This time he had whispered her name to himself, inwardly lost in the memory behind the syllables.

His whole life somehow seemed hauntingly familiar. As if he was a stranger staring at the shattered pieces of how he had lived, watching the people that he knew and had known. The Ancient gods seemed to deny him piece of mind and instead allowed his probing thoughts to dig up each memory and scratch it open, letting it bleed like an old battle wound.

For indeed, some memories went deeper than the blades. 

How long he stood there, watching the tea slowly come to a boil he did not know. The rest of the world seemed to be drowned out by the sound of the rain that had resumed outside.

Kuro and Shiro had come in moments earlier but he paid little to no attention to their arrival. _A surprise to see you here. _Came one comment. The reply was a careless shrug. It turned out that they had already eaten at the restaurant. Had he? Again he shrugged. He didn't really seem in the mood to talk. Then again, he never was.

They had gone to bed upstairs after talking for a few more moments, leaving him to his tea. 

By the time he had lifted the pot from the hearth, he heard the paper doors slide open once more. _Okina? _His mind sighed and told him other wise. Turning around, he caught sight of a familiar form tucking the folds of his garments for comfort ability. They were a few sizes too big on her. 

Facing the hearth once more, he moved the pot to the table and tried to look for a suitable sentence. Even just a word that would allow him a more tangible grip of the situation that fate had so calmly presented himself with. After a while, he brought out the only statement that he could pull out of his vocabulary without a confused stutter.

"Tea?"

---

**Author's notes: **My third chapter in three days. Just to point out, this is a revised edition, the earlier being re-hashed and re-edited. Footnotes have also been added to chapter two to explain the origin of Miss Moriya more clearly. I apologize for the mix up. I had apparently uploaded a draft version. Rest assured that I will be paying more attention to my updates next time. Thank you and good day. __


	4. Whispers from a Darkened Shore

**4. Whispers from a Darkened Shore**

_Once, as all these stories go, when the Tokugawa Shogunate had yet to fall and the drawn-sword assassin of the Ishin-shishi had yet to be captured and gutted alive by the Shinsengumi, when the Sekihoutai was still led to believe that they were more than mere pawns in the cruel gods' game of shogi, there lived a boy. In many ways, he was a young man like many others. Ne'er would he be allowed to choose a path, for his, had been decided long ago. _

_Born and raised to be a leader to the Oniwabanshuu, the Emperor's elite assassins, his life had never been his to live. Instead, as was with his entire clan, his life belonged to the Regal Daimyo of __Japan__. _

_This was why, at seventeen, when the country had finally succumbed to the influences of the Western man, he had found himself acting as the last resort to keeping two clans, soon to be forgotten by both time and man, alive._

_He was betrothed to a girl he did not know. _

_At first, he had not felt a need for attachment or understanding of the girl, this ninja heiress to the Sanada faction who was but a year her junior. After all, they were both simply accepting the decisions of their elders as an obligation left to be done and nothing more. _

_So instead he allowed himself to believe to be engaged to a mere idealization of her. _

_What he got instead was a cunning, sharp-witted and cynical bride-to-be. _

_When the arrangements were first set, they were made to live in the same vicinity. Spending at least one  season together  would do them good, many had pointed out. In hind's sight he allowed himself to agree._

_What had managed to form between them was at first, a rough and rather stilted acquaintance. Uncomfortable silence normally lapsed between intermediate moments of forced small talk and though they spent the passing days in each other's company, their walks turned out to be more of a burden than a form of relaxation. _

_Growing accustomed to each other's living patterns had been hard as well, for he had been not much of a nocturnal man, while she wished to spend the nights awake. They slept under the same roof and even in the same room, for, as their elders had so carefully arranged, the house had but one room. But never did they sleep in the same bed, nor was there a hint of intimacy between them. _

_Due to this predicament, many had supposed that the engagement would be called off, for neither the girl's father nor the boy's guardian seemed so strict as to forbid them actual happiness._

_Only in the last month of their stay in the village did passers-by notice a more cordial relationship between the two. When out walking in the dim nights that signified the slow arrival of winter, she would laugh softly as they spoke of simple nothings, while he, for his part, would smile on occasion, maybe not enough for the watchers to take much notice, but at least enough for her to see. _

_This was why it came as a shock, to many in fact, when the boy, now a man of 18 suddenly left in the Spring and the girl, whom none had known much of, save the boy, went back to their own village far away, never to look back at Kyoto as a world to make a memory of._

_At first, rumors had said that it had been because of a little girl that the young man had come to take care of, a dark-blue haired, bright-blue eyed girl that was supposedly his child. This anecdote, however, was retracted when it was learned that he girl was nothing more than 10 years younger than him, a child to whom he acted as a surrogate father. And so the villagers went on with their lives, coming to forget about the man who left and the woman who went the other way. Many had been lost to pity. _

_Eight years later, as the story goes, for none of these stories end really, of course, the man was rumored to have returned from where he had once left for only, he had drastically changed internally, as if his life prior had never existed at all. He and a small number of men worked under a strange  man, whom in turn supposedly worked for a red prince. The tragedy that befell the young man after his service under the stranger was severe, and he had lost and learned from many battles since that day, until finally, he found himself right back where he started._

_He saw himself  in __Kyoto__, with the wind, and the vision of the dark-haired girl he had left standing before him._

---

**Author's note:**

This is a flashback chapter hence the italics. Thank you for those whom have reviewed once more, most especially to my Sempai, Mij and Hitokiri Tomoe. I'm currently testing out the application of a Misanagi Moriya and Aoshi Shinomori pairing. ^_^ Hope you guys enjoy. Feedback is welcome, most especially constructive criticism. Concerning the situation, I tried to play up the thought of the Oniwabanshu and the Sanada as two factions that knew of each others existence since both supposedly had a part in the Bakumatsu no Douran. Hazuki Moriya and Misanagi's living style is a complete fabrication since she has little to know screen time within the entire series. I'll keep researching though.


	5. The Figure Behind the Glass

**5. The Figure behind the Glass**

 The wind chimes had pealed like the smallest of church bells, signaling the arrival of a cheerful young woman into the household. "Jiya!" came the all too familiar call as she ran through the rooms with the most vibrant of footsteps. Behind her, the two, slightly older women smiled to each other, allowing themselves to enter the house on their own. They all knew that Misao was anxious to get home, and there was really no need to question why. For indeed, it had always been a well-known fact that her love for Aoshi Shinomori would never waver, much less dampen within the span of a few days away from him. Outside the weather consisted of a beautiful, cloudless blue sky and the brightest morning sun that seemed to have shone in a decade. 

"Misao-chan!"  Kuro had given his greeting as he had raised the newly washed set of plates in his hands to avoid colliding with the girl. "What a pleasant surprise! Gods, you told me that you guys were staying in Edo for a week!" 

"Silly! It _has_ been a week." Came her matter-of-factly reply. "Anyway, where's Jiya?" 

The question had made him smiled, seeing the gleam of hope in Misao's eyes and the real reason behind the inquiry. "Okina's gone for a stroll again…" He said, rolling his eyes, "Gods know how long he'll be this time. Have you had lunch yet? Shiro and I will be doing the cooking again… As always." 

Misao hid her pout quite well, when she assessed the situation in her mind. "That's ok. I'll just go to the temple. Aoshi-sama should be there by now, what time did he leave? Before dawn I bet!" She turned around and made a beeline for her umbrella, picking it up with a toothy grin. When she turned around to face Kuro once more, however, her smile slowly disappeared…

"Well, uh, Misao-chan…" She watched as his stance shifted uneasily, the plates in his hands wobbling ever so slightly as he moved. "Aoshi-san is… Well, he kinda left two days ago…"

"What?" This time the show of displeasure that she had so easily concealed earlier became visible, her gaze questioning and her jaw dropping slightly. Left?! Aoshi-sama LEFT?!?! "Well… Where'd he go?" 

"E… Edo, I think." The plates gave another soft clink as Kuro shifted uneasily, "He said something about having to meet someone…"

"Oh… Ok…" She stood up quietly and blinked, the umbrella rolling and coming to a stop at her feet. Meanwhile Kuro had turned around to bring the dishes to the kitchen. 

"Misao-chan? Misao-chan?" Ochika called out repeatedly, "Misao-chan, what's wrong?" 

Misao blinked once more, her mind extremely incredulous. _Why would Aoshi-sama be in __Edo__?_

---

The morning train to Edo had only been half full when they boarded, a number of passengers being tourists that had decided that coming home early would be best in order to beat the heat. 

He and his companion had taken a seat at the very back of the train, an area where only three passengers sat. One was an old man who was reading the newspaper while the other two were a mother and her sleeping male toddler, who shifted in his sleep each time the train tracks gave the locomotive a rough nudging.

Glancing at the young lady in front of him, he leaned back in his seat and turned to look out the window. He still felt uncomfortable around her. It was as if the marriage meeting between them had just started all over again, only this time, they had this gaping hole of history that somehow demanded it's self to be filled. She has said nothing, concerning their predicament, not during that first awkward evening of their reencounter. Instead she had motioned for him to sit down and poured the tea herself, setting the cups on the low table before coming to sit down beside him. 

He shut his eyes and sighed, pushing the rest of it out of his mind. She didn't have to stay. He would not... No, could not obligate her to. She could always go back. She had done it once, anyway.

"Shinomori-kun,"

How it could be so easy for someone to drag him out of the reverie bothered him sometimes. Still she had used the same name that she had always called him with and the same tone of voice as well. "Yes?" He had replied casually, his calm though somewhat brusque façade doing very well to hide the number of questions that his mind had been throwing at him. 

She smiled faintly, the look in her eyes seeming distant as her gaze fell upon the rural lands that they passed through. "It's my first time riding on a train." 

The statement had made him sigh inwardly with relief, somewhat thankful that she still withheld the questions that he had once interrogated himself with. Instead, she had reminded him of their old talks, the ones that had at first been rather unsmooth and somewhat compulsory. "Same here." He finally answered, making her nod and glance up at him.

---

"The tea's a bit bitter." He had pointed out the night before, after a long bout of silence had passed between them. Pouring herself a cup, she had simply nodded, taking a small sip as she agreed. After all, how many people could escape death only to be faced by something more enigmatically frightening?

When he at last raised his gaze to face her, she blinked in surprise. "Yes?" 

He was always so inquisitive yet… Cold… Eyes like chips off ice from the highest mountain streams, never wavering, never faltering. It sent a chill down her spine. Something that reminded her about the coldness in the river. The swirling darkness that overcame her. "Shinomori… kun?" 

She had somehow prompted his mind to ask what had happened, but he at once thought better of it. It was not his nature to be interfering, and he knew, that in the form of lifestyle that they shared, clan wars were not something uncommon. It also wasn't of much help that the Meiji government thought very little of the old Alliances and their inner factions. "Your father…" He finally said, for lack of anything better. 

"Dead." She replied, "Five years as of last summer. He died shortly after the war."

He cleared his throat with a cough, not entirely certain of what next to say. "I apologize if-"

"It's alright. It was for the best, I think. His only regret was not to die in battle."

"And Kaita?" Only when the inquiry came out of his mouth did his mind lament on it ever leaving. 

She took a long sip of tea before replying once more. "Dead…" She whispered. There was a surprising calmness to her voice as she spoke, as if she had already seen what was going to happen long ago and merely waited for it to come. "He died by the weaponry of the _Gaijin…_ As did a brave number of my men. I am the last left of my Clan, so the Meiji Restoration has made sure of."

"Moriya…" His eyes had widened slightly, but he drew his breath and sighed, "I-"

"Shinomori-kun, I'm tired." 

"I understand." He had said, with much simplicity, "I'll see you in the morning." 

Picking up her cup, she looked at him with a questioning gaze. "And you?" 

"I have to pack. I'll be leaving for Edo."

 "Oh… I see." Tugging at the fabric of her robes once more, she placed her cup by the sink had nodded. "Will you need me to vacate the premises soon after?" 

"Yes." 

She gulped uncomfortably and nodded, accepting the truth of the matter. "I see. Goodnight, Shinomori-kun." 

"Moriya, see if you may find something more fit to your figure in the closet down the hall." Aoshi's voice rang after her, "I intend to have you ready by sunrise." 

"So… Soon?" Looking into his eyes she suddenly seemed faint. Of course, she didn't have to expect more. He had been kind enough to save her. That was surely enough.

Pouring himself another cup of tea, he sighed, his gaze never leaving her. "I plan to be at the train station early, hopefully you don't mind coming with me." 

The shock on her face slowly melted into a smile as she accepted the proposition with a nod. 

Only when she had closed the door behind her did Aoshi allow himself to finish his tea. 

---

"We're here." He seemed to be talking to himself more than to her as his fingers silently traced over the hilt of his blade. Stepping down onto the ramp, he looked at her in her dark red kimono and motioned for her to follow. 

"Wait!" 

Turning around once more, he watched as she reached up and straightened his collar, smirking to herself as she did so. "Much better." She said smiling, "Shinomori-kun, we can go now." 

Glancing upward he walked on, listening as her faint footsteps trailed behind him. 

---

It was a little before nine o'clock when the former Mibu Wolf of the Shinsengumi, Hajime Saitou finally caught sight of the Oniwabanshu O-kashira. Aoshi Shinomori was a calm man whom had allowed his life to drift into quietude, one that merely mirrored his connections and occupation prior to his current lifestyle. Also, his affiliations were mostly classified to friends and acquaintances, never those concerning matters of the heart. This was why it came as a surprise to him when, going down the train that morning, he caught sight of a woman that he had never seen before. A woman that arrived right by Shinomori's side. 

---

**Author's Notes**: Edited. Ladies and gentlemen, we will now play spot the typo. If you feel that I've misspelled or need corrections in canon then don't hesitate to mail. Yes, yes. This actually has a plot. Once again, thank you to Liss, Scarlet, Aaron, and everyone else who took time to review. The next chapter will be a turning point, I assure you. Feedback is welcome. Good day. ^_^


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